The Lucky One
by silver-kin
Summary: In a relationship, he believes, there are two kinds of people-the lucky, and the unlucky. Tanba has always considered himself the former of the two. (Set in the same universe as 'Nervous' and 'To Have You Close.')


Another piece set in the same universe as 'Nervous,' and 'To Have You Close.'

Disclaimer: Diamond no Ace belongs to Terajima Yuuji

**The Lucky One**

It happens gradually, a slow accumulation of little things. They cling to his heart, dangling off the branches of fears that have long since taken root in the base of his soul. As the days pass, they grow, twisting his heart into a misshapen lump of unvoiced thoughts and hate.

Some days, Tanba feels like he can do anything. Other days, he takes long showers, turning the heat up to maximum so he can stand under the water with his eyes closed and think of absolutely nothing.

He had hoped he had grown past this, left behind this part of him in the memories of high school.

Tanba should have known. Things are never that easy.

* * *

"Are you sure you don't want to talk about it?"

Tanba grits his teeth, fails to keep the annoyance out of his words. "For the last time, I'm fine."

There's a long silence, heavy and dark. When he dares a look back, Chris is watching him with a concerned expression, his eyebrows drawn together in a frown. The angle of his arms across his chest is tight and frustrated, fingers clenched around his elbows-but his eyes are sad.

His throat clogs up; Tanba turns away, crouching down to shove his feet into his shoes. He stands, moves for the door.

"Tanba."

He pauses.

"I can't help you if you won't tell me what's wrong.

"I don't need your help."

"But there is something bothering you."

"I said I'm fine."

"Will you please stop? You've been on edge all day, and you hardly replied to my messages all week."

"I told you, it's been really hectic."

"No, this is different. It's something else."

"You wouldn't understand."

"I'm trying to. Why can't you just talk to me?"

"Because it's none of your damn business!" he yells, whirling around.

The hush that follows burns. Chris looks taken aback, eyes wide, before his expression contorts into something darker.

"Fine," he says, the words short and clipped. "Sorry for being nosy."

It's a little amazing, how words can hurt more than any form of physical abuse. Tanba feels his chest caving in, feels the air get knocked out of his lungs as they collapse, and it's more than he can handle. He turns around, hand going for the door, pulls it open and slams it closed.

He doesn't cry on the way home. Not even once.

* * *

It was pretty stupid, he realises. Now that he's sitting in the lecture hall listening to the professor drone on and on about a topic Tanba can't really bring himself to care about at present, he's had plenty of time to reflect on the events of last night.

It was stupid. He should just take out his phone and apologise already.

...yeah. That's probably for the best.

Tanba glances around, makes sure no one's watching, and carefully unlocks his phone.

His thumb hovers above the messaging option, uncertain.

And then he's shoving the phone back into his pocket, cursing internally.

* * *

The next few hours are pure torture. Tanba's fingers twitch towards his phone every fifteen minutes or so, but he always stubbornly refrains.

And yet, he can't help but fiddle with his phone all day, can't fully suppress the tiny spark of hope arising in his chest every time his phone vibrates with a new message.

By lunch break, he turns his phone off.

He turns it back on during dinner, and finds 24 new messages, all from the group chat Isashiki created during that first month, and not a single one from Chris.

He sighs.

"Why the long face?"

Tanba glances up to see his roommate, Hiroshi, hovering above him. The other man sets down his bowl of noodles onto the table and plonks down directly opposite.

"It's nothing," Tanba says, putting his phone to one side, and picking up his chopsticks.

Unfortunately, if there's one thing Tanba should know by now, it's that Hiroshi is neither so easily dissuaded nor well-versed in the ancient art of tact. Which is why, rather than backing off and dropping the subject like any other human being, he props his elbows onto the table and leans forward eagerly. "Trouble with your girlfriend?"

Boyfriend, Tanba almost says, before wondering if that term even applies anymore. "I don't want to talk about it," is all he says instead.

"Aww, come on," he pleads. "We've been roommates for half a year now and you're still keeping her a secret? It's not like I'm going to steal her from you."

"Not talking about it," he repeats

Hiroshi pouts, an exaggerated, childish expression on his still boyish-face, and Tanba marvels briefly that this boy is technically a top student in his batch. WItty and charming when he wants to be, and an absolute toddler the rest of the time; Hiroshi Oki is known by every student on the campus, either because they want to kill him in his sleep, or join him. Tanba himself had been certain he'd be charged with murder by the end of their first week of living together, and is still occasionally surprised that it didn't turn out that way.

His tolerance level must be improving. He blames it on two years of putting up with Miyuki.

"Well," Hiroshi says between mouthfuls, "you know I'm practically a love expert. If you're having problems, I can probably help out."

"No," he retorts instantly.

It's not that he's afraid Hiroshi would judge him; the man's shamelessly open about his own wide range of interest in sexual partners. It's just that, aside from the Seidou crowd, no one else knows about his relationship with Chris. And he's not sure he's ready for anyone else to find out.

Which might not even be a problem anymore if things stay this way, he thinks miserably.

Hiroshi shrugs. "If you're sure."

Honestly, Tanba's not certain about anything anymore.

* * *

By Wednesday, he's a complete mess.

He's spent the last hour or so staring at the same problem and making absolutely no progress. It doesn't help that he's working on his advanced mathematics assignment, and it's exactly the kind of thing he would have texted Chris about 45 minutes ago, asking for help, or to complain about his idiotic choice of subjects. Or just chat with for a while to work off some of the stress.

Instead he's ruminating the same nonsensical equation and its equally ineffable formula and he wants to break something.

His phone is right there but.

There's still been no word from Chris.

Tanba shoves his books away viciously and grabs his phone. He ignores the surprised look Hiroshi sends his way, not even bothering to hide his irritation. "I'm going out for a bit. Don't wait up."

"Got it," comes the sing-song reply. "Don't do anything stupid."

If it were any other time, Tanba would have turned around to scowl at his roommate, maybe say something cutting in his defense.

Instead, all he does is lock the door. Then he takes out his phone, and makes a call.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Tanba's sitting at a table tucked into the corner of a small restaurant, sipping at his tea and fidgeting restlessly. He tries not to glance at the door every time a new customer enters, but he can't really help it. It isn't until he spots a familiar face arrive that he relaxes a little.

Miyauchi strides over and slides into the seat opposite. "Tanba," he says by way of greeting.

The former catcher looks harried. The skin under his eyes are crinkled with exhaustion and too few hours of sleep, and his shoulders droop in the universal angle of fatigue. Tanba sucks in a deep breath, feeling horrible. "Sorry for calling you out so late."

He waves a hand dismissively in the air. "Don't worry about it. Just get me something hot to drink."

Tanba does, calling for another cup of tea. Neither of them say anything until the order comes; Tanba watches as Miyauchi rubs at his eyes with his fingers, and swallows around another apology.

When the tea comes, Miyauchi takes a large gulp, and exhales loudly. "Alright. Tell me."

So he does. The whole story. How the last two weeks had been excruciating in ways he did not know it could still be; how he had refrained from going to Chris when all he had wanted was to hear his voice; how old fears have returned in full force, drowning him in new, still more terrifying ways; how he had lashed out at the person that mattered most, and provoked him into lashing out as well; how he had single-handedly destroyed one of the most beautiful things in his pathetic life.

Miyauchi listens diligently the entire time, a silent, solid presence sitting in front of him. Eventually, Tanba runs out of words, his last sentence trailing off into the air as he realises what he's just done, and buries his face in his hands.

After a long silence, Miyauchi says, "It's not your fault."

"Yes," he growls miserably, "it is."

"Kouichirou-"

"It always is. If only I wasn't so-" He stops, grits his teeth.

A hand grips his shoulder firmly. When Tanba looks up, and Miyauchi's gaze is stern. "No, it isn't."

Tanba turns away, and doesn't answer.

The other man sucks in an audible breath. "It's been a rough few weeks. You were dealing with a lot of things. Snapping like that was only to be expected."

"That doesn't mean I should have said that to him," Tanba mutters, recalling Chris' expression that day, the hurt that had flashed briefly across his face.

Miyauchi nods, crossing his arms. "That's right. You shouldn't have. But you don't have to beat yourself up over it. You're human, Tanba. We all make mistakes."

"Some mistakes shouldn't be forgiven."

"But in this case, the decision isn't yours to make," he says. "It's Chris'."

Tanba flinches at the sound of the other man's name, and his stomach churns threateningly. "He probably hates me."

The other man sighs. "Don't say that. We've been through this."

"Keisuke," he says desperately, "I hate me. Why wouldn't he?"

"You need to stop thinking like that."

"He hasn't contacted me all week," he points out.

"Neither have you," Miyauchi fires back. "Maybe he's trying to give you space to work things out. Maybe he thinks you're upset over something he did. Maybe he doesn't know what to say either. It could be anything," he says, spreading his arms wide. "Tanba, your relationship involves two people. Obsessing over this, by yourself, will get you nowhere. You need to talk with him."

"How?" Tanba asks, hating the way his voice sounds, small and lost. "What am I supposed to say?"

"Tell him how you feel," the other man says plaintively.

He rolls his eyes. "If he doesn't already hate me now, he will then."

"This is Chris we're talking about," Miyauchi says, leaning back in his seat. "I think it's more likely he'll end up hating himself."

That surprises him. "What? Why?"

Miyauchi raises an incredulous eyebrow at him, and the look in his eyes is that of old resignation. "Because he made you feel this way."

"No, he didn't!" he protests, a little too loudly. He ignores the curious glances of the other customers, his heart beating fast. "Why would you say something like that?"

"That's how he'll interpret it," the other man says, his shoulders lifting in a small shrug. "You know what he's like. He probably thinks you're angry with him."

"But that's ridiculous," he splutters.

"He doesn't know that. Which is why communication is so important. You can't be in a relationship without talking with each other."

Tanba looks down, staring at his now-cold cup of tea. It's difficult, he thinks. It's been years and it's still so difficult.

There's movement from the other side of the table, and one of Miyauchi's large hands reach over to envelop his own, squeezing in a reassuring gesture.

"Be brave," he says quietly. "You can do this."

* * *

On Thursday evening, he trudges back to his room listessly, feeling completely drained from a full day of classes. All he wants to do now is collapse onto his bed and sleep until dawn. Except there's a quiz on Friday he needs to study for, and he's still got to revise the more recent lectures because these past few days, Tanba has been doing pretty much nothing but staring off into space when the lecturers were talking

He exhales heavily, and goes about unlocking the door. Once he gets inside, he kicks the door shut and starts toeing off his shoes. He's only just computing the fact that there's an extra pair of sneakers when Hiroshi says, "Tanba, look who came to visit!"

His heart skips a beat, and he looks up slowly, mouth going dry.

Chris is sitting at his study table.

For a long while, no one says anything. Then, Tanba clears his throat, forces his voice to come out steady. "Chris."

"Tanba," is the smooth reply, and the other man is entirely expressionless.

The tension in the air is so thick, he can practically see it.

Hiroshi bounces to his feet. "Well, I'm sure you two have plenty of catching up to do. Why don't I step outside and leave you to it?" And then he's picking up his bag, collecting his stationery, some books, and rushing for the door before doubling back for his phone. At the last moment, almost as an afterthought, he grabs Tanba by the arm and drags him towards the entrance.

At the door, Tanba shakes him off, his arm stinging from the harsh grip. "What are you doing?" he hisses.

"I'm getting the hell out of here," Hiroshi states matter-of-factly. "This is obviously going to turn ugly somehow, I can feel it. Which is why I'm gonna wait it out at Daiki's place. The only thing I'm going to ask you to do is not break anything. Or make too much noise." He pauses. "Think you can promise me that?"

Tanba stares at him in disbelief.

His roommate gives him a pitying look, and pats him on the shoulder. "Good luck. Don't die. See you tomorrow, maybe." After that, he steps into his shoes and is gone, the door clicking shut softly.

And then it's just the two of them.

Tanba gives himself a moment. He's panicking; he's not in any way prepared for this. Not at all. This is much, much worse than when he decided to confess. A thousand times worse. What is Chris even doing here, it's a weekday.

He exhales. Inhales. Exhales again. Turns around and goes back in.

Chris is watching him, still wearing that unreadable expression. It makes Tanba uncomfortable because it's familiar, a little too close an echo of two years ago, and he's never, ever wanted to see that again.

He clears his throat. Tries to say what he's been meaning to say all week, but the words stick to his tongue, and instead he asks, "Didn't you have class today?"

"I skipped my afternoon lectures," is the quiet reply.

"Oh," he says softly.

A brief silence descends over them, strained and awkward. Then, he hears Chris inhale deeply, a long, preparatory breath.

"I'm sorry about the other day," Chris says, looking down at his hands. "I shouldn't have acted that way."

Tanba gapes. "What?"

Chris runs a hand through his hair, and frustration tinges his expression. "You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. You don't owe me anything. I'm sorry for nagging you about it. I hope you can forgive me."

"No," Tanba says, feeling overwhelmed. "Wait. You didn't do anything you need to apologise for. I was the one acting stupid."

"I think you were upset that day," Chris says quietly, "and I wasn't helping."

"No, that's not it. It's just-" Tanba falters, brings his hands up to his eyes because his vision has started blurring, and damn it, they've only been talking for two minutes.

He hears the chair scraping against the floor as Chris stands, and he feels the pause as the other man hesitates. "What is it?"

"Nothing."

"...is there anything I can do?"

The concern in the other man's voice is breaking his heart; he doesn't deserve this, doesn't deserve Chris' kindness and patience and forgiveness.

"Tanba?"

"Why are you still here?"

The pause that follows is deafening. When Chris finally speaks, his words are very, very quiet. "Do you want me to leave?"

"I've never wanted that," he answers honestly. He lets his hands fall, sucks in a deep breath, forces himself to meet the other man's gaze. "Chris. Why did you agree to go out with me?"

Chris' eyes widen visibly, his lips parting in shock, and Tanba can practically see his thoughts reeling. "Because I like you."

"You didn't when I first asked," Tanba reminds him. "Not like that."

His cheeks colour slightly, and Chris glances away. "No, I didn't," he agrees.

"What made you change your mind?"

"I told you. You're important to me. I didn't want to lose you."

"I was okay with us being friends, you know," he says quietly. "I wouldn't have stopped talking to you after you rejected me."

"But I didn't want to be just friends."

"Do you still feel that way now?"

Chris blinks. "I'm sorry?"

"It's been six months now. More than enough for you to figure out what you want. Do you really want to stay with me?"

"Why," he asks, voice tight, "are you asking me that?"

Tanba sighs. "I don't want you to do anything you might regret later on."

There is another long silence. It starts off tinged with confusion, as the other man mulls over his words; Tanba can pinpoint the exact moment the air shifts as puzzlement blends into comprehension, and the change is suffocating. It's hard to breathe, especially when he can feel the burn of Chris' gaze on him.

"You think I don't love you?"

It hurts to hear it, to have that old fear that has long since taken root in his heart be put to words. It hurts even more to hear the pain underlying the shock in Chris' voice, and Tanba turns away, biting at his lower lip. "I mean. You can have anyone you want. Any guy, any girl," he says, that last word coming out particularly bitter, and pretends he doesn't wince. "All you have to do is smile, and you'd have them wrapped around your finger. Like you had me. Have. I know. So I understand. You could have anyone, so why waste your time with me?"

"I'm not-"

"It was only a matter of time," he says softly, eyes squeezed shut, hardly daring to breathe, "before you realised it."

Tanba knows it's happening before he can even feel it. The dull weight in his lower back, climbing up his spine and into his shoulders. The tightening in his chest, compressing his lungs until he's no longer certain if he's breathing. The trembling that shakes his whole body as that tightly-wounded part of him finally falls apart.

Footsteps. Then, hands framing his face, and Chris' breath is warm and pleading. "Tanba, look at me."

Eyes still shut tightly, he bites his lip harder, tastes blood on his tongue.

"Tanba."

His name sounds strange in the other man's voice-raw, and a tad broken. It surprises him into looking, and Chris' eyes are very close, dark and intense.

"You think I settled for you," he says quietly. "You think that this relationship is less important to me than it is to you."

Tanba can't quite hold his gaze, so he stares past him, at the wall.

Chris exhales shakily. His fingers are still gripping Tanba's jaw firmly, refusing to let go. "Tanba," he begins, "I'm going to tell you a few things, and I want you to listen carefully, alright?"

There's a pause. Tanba knows the other man is waiting for him to answer, so he nods, once.

He takes a deep breath. "When you first...confessed to me, it took me completely by surprise. I wasn't expecting that. I never even suspected it, and we've been playing baseball together for three years. Well, two, really," he falters, correcting himself, "but we've been friends for three years, and I was shocked that I never noticed.

"But afterwards, when I started thinking about it, I couldn't stop. At first, I was just trying to figure out how I could have missed something so big, but then it got out of hand. I thought about you all the time. In class, during breaks. At Jun's monthly gatherings. All the time.

"And I missed you," Chris murmurs, low and soft. "It felt weird, because I couldn't just text you whenever I wanted without second-guessing if I was allowed to. And whether you'd even want to hear from me. I missed you so much that I couldn't concentrate on anything.

"Which is why I ran after you that day," he says, tilting Tanba's head until their eyes met once more. "It's been like that ever since. It's why I want to hold your hand in public and not have to worry about what other people think. It's why I get restless near the end of every week because I can't wait to see you. It's why I'm extremely jealous of your roommate, who has very kindly informed me that he plays for both sides five seconds into introducing himself, and then went on to comment very casually on how attractive you are and insisted on me telling him if you've broken up with your girlfriend yet, and if you've ever showed any interest in men before, and-"

Chris cuts himself off, takes a deep breath to steady himself. At this point, Tanba is staring at him, open-mouthed, because what?

Hiroshi said what?

Tanba clears his throat. "He was probably just joking-"

"I'm not finished," Chris says, low and stern.

He snaps his jaw shut.

Chris takes another deep breath, looks up to meet his gaze. "I love you, Tanba," he says, not even pausing when Tanba shivers involuntarily. "I fell in love with you thinking about you loving me. It might not be the best way to fall for someone, but it's how I fell for you. I've never felt this way about anyone else. This past week has been a whole new kind of hell for me because I had to go through hours and hours of class when all I wanted was to be with you."

Tanba feels dazed, those three words still ringing in his bones. "It was horrible for me too," he offers eventually. Then, "I kept hoping you'd call."

"I thought about it, but I figured I owed you a proper apology. Although in retrospect, I guess I should have at least texted." Chris sighs heavily. "I'm sorry for not coming by earlier."

"No, that's." He hesitates. "Thank you for coming."

"Doesn't matter. None of this matters if you think I'm not serious about this."

"I didn't say you weren't being serious. I just." Tanba swallows, remembering Miyauchi's advice, and forces the next sentence off his tongue in a hushed murmur. "I can't help but feel like you'll leave someday."

Chris lets out a raw, pained sound. "Tanba, I'm not going to wake up one day and abandon you. This means just as much to me as it does to you. Even more than you think. I want to be with you and I'm going to make this work. Because I love you. Alright?"

Tanba blinks rapidly, sees those yellow eyes blazing with an intensity that almost frightens him. ""You could have anyone," he whispers, quiet and fearful.

"I want you," Chris says. Then he leans up and presses their lips together in a fierce, desperate kiss.

Tanba winces at the pressure against his torn lip, and wraps his arms around the other man's shoulders, pulling him close, his entire body hungry for contact. His heart is pounding against his chest, incredibly loud in his ears, and it hurts.

When they pull away, Chris cups the side of his face. "I love you. I'll say it as many times as it takes, for as long as you need. Until you believe me."

He can't reply to that. Everything he wants to say feels wrong, and it's so much safer to say nothing. He sees Chris frown at him, before they're kissing again, open-mouthed and wet.

They spend some time like that, leaning into each other, re-learning what it feels like to share body heat. Tanba's skin prickles with goosebumps, and the atmosphere buzzes with tension. When they break apart for air, he curls his fingers against Chris' waist, his chest heaving.

"Missed you," Tanba confesses quietly.

"I missed you too," he replies, licking tentatively at the cut on Tanba's lip. He goes still, his expression focused and contemplative.

Tanba is just about to ask when Chris grinds their hips together, hard.

It sends a violent shiver racking through his spine, and leaves him gasping.

"What time will your roommate get back?" Chris asks, his breath warm against Tanba's mouth.

Tanba's having a hard time collecting his thoughts. "What?"

"Your roommate," he repeats. "You have a curfew, right?"

"Yes," Tanba manages, "but he said he'll spend the night at a friend's place. They're not very strict with the rules here."

"So we have the place to ourselves?"

The tone of his voice has warning bells ringing in his head. Tanba meets the other man's eyes to see him wearing an expression that is wholly, undoubtedly serious.

Then Chris is pulling him over to the bed, tugging at his t-shirt, his trousers. He practically shoves Tanba down onto the bed, straddling his hips. He pulls off his own t-shirt in a flurry of hurried motion and then he's pressing his bare chest to Tanba's, kissing him with tongue and spit and teeth. His other hand comes around to cup the back of Tanba's head, urging Tanba to lean back so he can suck on his neck. Tanba gasps, hands tangling in the other man's hair. He winces as teeth bite into his shoulder, tongue flicking across his skin, and his back arches involuntarily when Chris rocks his hips forward.

Then Chris moves lower, licks at a nipple, and Tanba bites his lip, desperately trying to keep quiet. He feels Chris pause, breathing against the sensitive skin, and then he's sucking mercilessly, takes it between his teeth and tugs until Tanba's keening softly from the sudden torrent of sensation. His fingers tighten in Chris' hair, his whole body flushing warm as the room suddenly becomes far too hot.

But it's been a difficult few weeks. And he doesn't know if he can handle the foreplay for very long.

Tanba shifts in place, restless. One of his legs brushes against the other man's half-hard cock-purely accidental, he swears-and Chris groans into his chest.

He pulls at Tanba's boxers, and then hesitates. "This okay?"

"Yes," he gasps, voice wobbling. "Yes. Please."

In one swift motion, he tugs Tanba's underwear down past his knees and tosses it over the bed. He kicks off his own last pieces of clothing, and lines up their naked bodies, skin against skin, sticky with sweat. He kisses Tanba again, one long drawn-out moment, before pulling back. "Do you have lubricant here?" he asks between pants for breath.

"You didn't bring any with you?" he asks, mildly surprised despite the dazed condition of his brain. It's not like Chris to be unprepared.

"My original plan," he says, "was to apologise for being a horrible boyfriend and take you out for a late-night snack somewhere to make up for it. The most it included was a goodnight kiss. Obviously, my foresight was lacking. Now do you have lube?"

It's ridiculous that Chris' frustrated tone makes him want to simultaneously laugh and moan. Instead, he settles for digging blindly in the bedside drawer for the almost completely unused bottle of lube he keeps there, as well as the pack of condoms.

Chris takes them eagerly. Rips open a packet with more force than strictly necessary and sends another thrill of shivers up Tanba's spine. Gets the condom on with shaking hands, uncaps the lubricant and coats his fingers generously. Pulls back to kneel between Tanba's thighs, his dry hand palming Tanba's left knee in a soothing gesture, the fingers of his other hand pressing at his entrance.

He meets Tanba's gaze, and slides one finger in. The pressure is solid and stinging and a huge relief. Tanba wills himself to relax, tries to maintain eye contact as Chris sweeps his finger in a full circle before pulling out. Then he adds a second, and then a third.

When he curls his fingers just right, Tanba arches off the bed, his whole body contracting as he swallows a helpless yelp. He lets his head fall back, gritting his teeth in an attempt to stay quiet, as Chris prods his prostate over and over.

"Chris," he finally chokes out, hands fisting in the bedsheets.

He pulls out instantly. Chris leans over, grabbing for the bottle of lube. Tanba glances up, and sees the expression on his face-lips parted, cheeks flushed the deepest shade of red he's ever seen them, and his eyes dark with a hundred emotions Tanba can't even begin to name.

Chris sits back, gently nudging Tanba's legs further apart, running one hand along the inside of his thigh and making him shiver. Fingertips dance across his groin, and Tanba tenses, waiting-

But then Chris is mouthing at his navel, pressing wet kisses all over his stomach. Tanba twitches, groans a little because it feels good but it's not what he needs right now. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to catch his breath.

"Tanba, look at me."

He opens his eyes, meets the dark gold of Chris' iris. The other man moves back, slow and deliberate, and slides his hands to Tanba's waist. When Chris finally pushes in, the moan that escapes his throat is far too loud for comfort. He feels Chris' fingers digging into his hipbones, feels the other man's trembling thighs against his own, and his whole back arches until Chris is all the way in.

They both take a moment to breathe. Then Chris snaps his hips forward, and Tanba reaches out blindly for him. He catches the other man by the shoulders, feels Chris press a kiss into his fingers before bucking forward again, getting the angle right this time. Tanba shudders, and has to repeatedly remind himself to be quiet.

They take it fast. Weeks' worth of emotions and needs drive them into a pace that is rough and desperate, gasping against each other, scrabbling for more. When Tanba flexes his thighs and rolls his hips in time with the thrusts, Chris moans, low and guttural, and stops. Tanba whines, toes curling with the urge to move, but then Chris is reaching up, cupping the side of his face.

"Tanba," he breathes, one thumb caressing his cheek, his eyes swimming with feeling. "I love you."

He gasps. "Chris-"

"I love you," he says again. And again, and again. He says it over and over until his voice cracks with the effort of holding back, and then he keeps saying it. He says it until Tanba is blinking back tears; until they're both shaking, teethering at the highest point of their climax.

And when Tanba's next breath is a desperate, wrangled cry, Chris reaches down and strokes his cock once, and rocks his hips one last time.

Tanba comes, sobbing and shuddering and utterly wrecked. Chris follows him over the edge a split second after, throbbing inside him. And then he collapses, hiding his wet face in the crook of Tanba's neck, and Tanba realises dazedly that he's not the only one crying this time.

They lie like that for a while, twitching and sweaty, sobbing quietly. Then Chris wraps his arms around Tanba, hugging him tight. "I love you," he breathes out, a puff of words against his skin.

Tanba'a heart aches in his chest, and he returns the embrace just as tightly. "I love you too," he whispers back.

Chris presses his lips to his shoulder, heavy with fatigue. "I'm not going anywhere."

And for once, Tanba doesn't try to argue that in his head. He exhales, pushing the treacherous thoughts to the back of his mind, and tries to revel in what he has now. "Okay," he finally manages, and feels Chris relax against him. "Okay."

* * *

The next day goes exponentially better. Tanba feels like he's breezing through classes, regardless of the subject. He manages to finish up a revision manual earlier than expected, and is halfway through a second assignment before Hiroshi bursts into the room. "I've brought dinner!" he announces cheerfully, flopping down at the table.

"Thank god," Tanba mutters, abandoning his work immediately. "Was the cafe very busy?"

"Yeah. Everyone's got a craving for noodles all of a sudden." He unties the plastic bag, and slides a plastic container towards Tanba. "Nice and hot."

The actual process of sitting down has been a bit of a pain all day today, and when he lowers himself to the floor, he can't quite help wincing at the sensation that shoots up his back. The food smells great though, so he sighs a little and picks up his chopsticks, muttering a quiet thanks. His skin prickles; when he looks up, Hiroshi is smirking.

He stops. "What?"

"Oh, nothing," Hiroshi says, and turns to his own food.

Tanba's not entirely sure why, but the memory of last night flashes briefly through his mind. He still hasn't asked Hiroshi about what Chris told him, doesn't even know how to go about broaching the subject-but he's fairly certain he knows what the other man was up to when he said those things.

Scowling, he reaches over and steals one of Hiroshi's mushrooms. The other man yelps in protest, and retaliates by going for one of Tanba's prawns. In the end, they spend a good portion of the next half hour or so fighting over food.

* * *

When he turns in for the night, Tanba spends a full five minutes staring at a blank screen before he finds the courage to send a quick message.

He tosses the phone next to his pillow, his heart beating erratically, and it makes him feel ridiculous and stupid and 15 again, getting worked up over absolutely nothing.

A reply does come though, and faster than he had hoped.

That's great! Good for you.  
I ended up sleeping through the first hour of class, but it was worth it. ;)

Tanba snorts before he can think to stifle it. From across the room, Hiroshi grumbles in his sleep, and turns over.

He types another few lines and waits, keeping the phone in his grip. When it vibrates again, he checks it immediately.

Two days would have been too long a wait. I needed you to know.

And that was Chris all over. How he manages to swing from dorky to intensely serious is a thing Tanba is still trying to figure out, even after all this time. He sighs a little, and sends one last message.

When the reply comes, it makes his lips curl, and spreads warmth throughout his chest.

Tanba falls asleep smiling, and his dreams are light and easy.


End file.
